The Age of Heroes
by Scarlet Hondae
Summary: .And she outlived them all.


Author's Note: Review, and I might give you more. Maybe.

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.And she outlived them all.

The cave was half-washed in harsh florescent light, revealing a carved staircase, one that had once been rough but had been smoothed over by the steps of those who carried the world upon their shoulders. A large computer sat across from those stairs, the dim light of the stand-by mode revealing more of the cave. On the same wall of the stairs were items that belonged in a history museum, items that would, hopefully, never see the light of day again. Hopefully, the ice gun would stay off, hidden under glass. Hopefully, the black and red checkered jester suit would forever stay behind the creepy puppet, never to be used again.

The biggest hope, though, she thought, staring at the wall of costumes, was that the armored suits would never been taken from their homes in the glass. The biggest hope was that the world had progressed enough to never again need Batman or Nightwing or Robin or Batwoman. That was her biggest hope, her biggest wish.

With a sigh of regret, Raven turned towards the computer she stood in front of. A hand reached out, and after a long beat, a slim finger touched one of the various buttons of the keyboard. The computer gave a beep, then asked whether she was _sure_ she wanted to shut it off. The computer itself hadn't seen the restful stage of 'shut down' since its original assembly. It had been on stand-by, and even in hibernate when the original Batman had retired, but it had never actually been _off _since...well, suffice to say, the computer hadn't been off in a very long time.

Next, the immortal half-demoness glided over to the wall of 'trophies', as the New Age Batman had once termed it. The original Batman had always claimed that he kept the tokens to make sure the deadliest weapons never fell into another's hands, whether government or supervillain or superhero. Nightwing (or Robin, as she still secretly referred to him in the back of her mind – he had been, after all, the first Robin, and the real one, when you think back on why Robin actually was termed 'Robin') had told her, though, that his mentor had really just needed something that reminded him of why he fought. Raven wasn't sure who was right, but she suspected that, in their own ways, they were all probably correct.

The immortal took a deep breath and extended her hand. Her head slowly turned and she faced the large panel on the wall. It glowed black for a mere second, then, one by one, the lights turned off. The puppet was the first one – the light under it's case, the light that had burned so bright and shone so long, flickered off. Harley's suit was next, then the ice gun. Finally, a canister of radioactivity went dark, and the last one followed; the Joker's flower, the flower that had adorned his vest until his death, slowly lost it's light and fell into darkness, finally joining the both owners in silence.

Raven made her way towards the costumes, the florescent lights turning off in her wake. The entire cave was dark when she reached the glass booths, with the only light from said cases. She wasn't sure why, but she ended up in front of Batgirl's costume first. Barbara Gordon was the first, and only, woman to ever wear this suit. She'd started at a mere thirteen years old, and swung from buildings and fought beside the Dark Knight until she was nineteen. Then she was shot – the Joker took her alter identity that night, leaving her known as Barbara Gordon, daughter of (and future) police commissioner. She had, of course, taken up the Oracle mantel for a while, but after a fight with her mentor and brothers...

Raven reached out and touched the smooth, cool glass. The lights along the case gave a loud boom, then went out, one by one. Finally, the top light was extinguished, and the last thing the world saw of Batgirl was the empty eyes that had once belonged to a little girl who'd fought so hard, so very hard, for a city that would soon forget her.

The next case that Raven stood in front of was Nightwing's. He'd been the third to go, after his father and his sister, but before his youngest brother. He hadn't truly been Nightwing, or maybe Nightwing hadn't really been Nightwing. Raven had always secretly thought that Nightwing was the alter-ego of Robin, not the alter-ego of Dick Grayson. In fact, the half-demoness mused, Dick Grayson was the true alter-ego of Robin, whose alter-ego was Nightwing. After so many years behind the cowl, Dick had stopped being 'Dick' and started being 'Robin who pretended to be Dick who pretended to be Nightwing'. Still, Nightwing did belong in the case. He'd been a hero, and a damned good one, no matter how hard he'd been pretending to be who he wasn't.

The lights went at the same slow rate, and the navy blue insignia was the last to go, giving Raven one last look at her soul-brother's preferred pretend-symbol.

The next costume to go dark would be the original Batman's. He'd been the greatest, the best of them all, though Raven would always say that the true Robin was better. Batman had hid behind the name of Bruce Wayne, and done more for Gotham, and the world, as both than some people could dream of doing. He'd saved the world, created heroes, defeated villains, and so, so much more. His death had been heroic, as well. He'd jumped into his mechanical batsuit and helped his blood son, the New Age Batman. He'd sacrificed his life, or rather, the life of Bruce Wayne. Really, though, when she thought about it, the real Batman had been dead and just hadn't known it, and had been that way since he'd hung up his suit. He'd _become _Batman, and Wayne had been the true mask.

It was time, Raven thought, as the lights went out slowly, ever so slowly, for the cowl to return to the darkness, to join the wearer.

She made her way to the New Age Batman, to Terry McGinnis. He'd probably been the only one who'd managed what every superhero had wanted; McGinnis had a wife, one who'd proceeded her husband to the grave by three years. He'd also had three children, two little girls and a boy in between. They were grown now, and had been teenagers when they'd found out their father, still relatively young himself, had been found in the morgue. He'd mysteriously appeared there, arms folded across his chest, a Batarang on his chest, between his folded hands. He'd died of internal bleeding, but had taken down an entire terrorist organization with a defective suit, still mourning for his blood father and mentor.

The red glared out at her, slowly fading to darkness as the night flickered. The last Raven would ever see of Batman was that bright red bat symbol, the one that she'd scoffed at so many decades ago.

Robin was, of course, the last, all three of them – Timothy Drake, who'd died as Robin with the Joker and died as a nameless, faceless man in a peaceful sleep ten years ago. Jason Todd had died three years after Timothy's Robin had died. He'd died in a blood war, one fought between his former street home and in his insane, troubled mind. The true Robin, the first one, the one who'd coined the name Robin, had never really died, at least not until recently. He'd merely begun hiding behind the name Nightwing, giving Jason and Timothy a chance to become the heroes that were never destined to become. The true Robin had died a heroic death, hiding behind Nighwing, who'd been hiding behind Dick Grayson, who'd prevented a massacre at the age of ninety two and died for his deeds.

Instead of automatically turning off the light, Raven reached out and through the case. Her hand, intangible, reached and opened the case to the uniform. The reached into the utility belt and pulled out a single Birdarang, a tear falling down her face silently. Her soul-brother was dead, had been for a long time, but the wound, both mental and emotion, was, and forever would be, still raw.

She closed the case once more, letting the tear fall to the ground. Then the lights flickered off, and Raven watched as the yellow-on-black letter R went black for the last time.

Dark wings surrounded her in the dark cave, and she vanished, leaving a single bat to scream in her wake and the single hope that there would never be another need for these heroes.

The time of superheroes was over.


End file.
